Crossed Lines

Some of my friends and acquaintances may have thought recently that I’ve fallen off the map. Between moping about the house (the best thing to do when you have too many bills to pay, no career prospects (or even odd jobs), or enough money to grease all the squeaky wheels) and fulfilling only required public appearances, it is perfectly reasonable for folks around town to be asking “Where’s Jerimy these days?”. However, yesterday afternoon found my pendulum on the upswing.

I love flying kites, however I don’t have many kites geared toward the Oregon Coast’s standard winter weather (and I never have had a death wish), so I don’t get much air time when the South wind is gusting to 50 mph . This winter has been unusually mild though, and I’ve had a hankering to get out and enjoy the beach the best way I know how. The last couple weeks the weather has been teasing me with sunny skies (or very light drizzle), but the winds have been nearly nonexistent or from the East. I live on the Left Coast for the smooth laminar flows coming off of the Pacific Ocean to the West, that’s why I moved here in 1991.

Finally, yesterday the forecasts (I never rely on just one weather guesser, not here next to the big water) called for light North (or maybe West) winds. So after dropping my lovely wife at work, I took half my kites and my 4 year old son down to the parking lot at the beach (I would normally use a location name, but for the sake of the Oregon State Parks Department, I won’t name one of the most popular kite flying areas and tourist destinations in the state, but that sounds like a rant for another day) to check how reality compared to guesstimation.

It was warm for January, definitely tshirt weather, but no wind above 2 mph. Now, I have kites that will fly in that, but kites designed for flying indoors just don’t handle the same outside. Besides I’m not going to risking destroying those fragile things (without a commitment to an audience) when the forecasts are calling for more wind.

So, after assembling one of my lighter sport kites, and pulling it into the air for a futile attempt to fly, I turned to help my son Luc.

For those who don’t know me well. I’m blessed to have three sons (and no daughters) that are spread in age over 14 years. I love them all dearly, and differently (you parents will get that). With the large gap between the boys, I  forget bits and pieces of development as they grow, so you’ll (all) forgive me if I’m misremembering, but I don’t remember my older boys spending much time building sandcastles.

They spent plenty of time on the sand and there where plenty of holes to be dug on those long  stretches of beach, Zach even took to grabbing a sport kite (and getting as far from Dad as feasible to tangle up the line set), but Luc is happy with a pail and a shovel (and someone to lift and carry them for him). The boy wants to be down in the sand building.

Of course, his first attempts failed miserably. For those that don’t spend much time on the beach, there are two things you need for a sandcastle, sand and enough water  for the sand particle to cling to it’s neighbor. For those of you that don’t spend much time flying kites on the Oregon Coast, there’s two things I try to avoid with my kites (especially in the winter) and that’s wet sails and wet lines, so when I can I park my kites above the high water line in the loose dry sand that is so hard to walk through.

After relocating the boy and his equipment below the high water line (but well away from the surf line), his second attempt held together. I learned however, that he needs some smaller equipment to work with. His pail is too heavy for him to turn over and use as a mold for a simple tower, so Dad to the rescue. We made a quick lone tower, that was also quickly demolished when a large diameter stick was inserted for a flag pole. Then in a fit a creativity, I laid out three towers in a triangle, and filled in the gaps between them using the back of my garden shovel as a form, resulting in a trefoil shaped construction. Luc was suitable pleased, and turned to make another, as I went to try another kite.

After a fruitless attempt at a long-line launch of a light canard wing single line kite, it was time to stand around and enjoy the weather. For a dedicated kiter, this is not unusual. We’ll spend the whole weekend doing it at a Kite Festival if the weather doesn’t work the way we hope. Fortunately, the wind came up before long, switching from a barely there South wind to a casual 5 mph North west that may have built briefly to 10 mph.

Up went the canard, quickly tied to a convenient (until the Kite Festival rolls around, then it’ll be in the way) piece of driftwood. Then Luc helped me put up a small power sled and our pair of baby teddy bears. Next in the air was my 20+ year old, 6 piece train of 4 foot delta conynes with a matching Catherine’s Wheel spinning below them. Then my 15 sq ft appliqued parafoil, made years ago from Stretch Tucker’s class at the Oregon Kitemakers Retreat, with its new fuzzy tail.

I had utilized most of the useful pieces of driftwood, didn’t have a strong desire to set a sand anchor, and wasn’t convinced all the pieces would continue to fly properly, so I grabbed up my sport kite and flew it up wind far enough to keep an eye on my little show, while teasing some of the foot traffic as they headed down to the surf line or back to their cars.

Sure enough, a couple of the lines had minor problems over a couple hours flying time, but nothing came out of the air so I was very pleased with the results. Unfortunately, I had left my cameras at home, so no pictures this time.

I wound up chatting with a few individuals as I was flying. The usual stuff. A man originally from SoCal, bringing his grandkids to play in the surf about the changes time makes in kites, games, the things we do and use every day. A man from Idaho with a busted North Shore Radical and the parts he’ll need to get it back in the air. A couple about how much the teddy bears cost.

At one point Luc joined me in flying the sport kite. It was entirely to large for him and the wind was a little high for the light wind kite, but I adore those rare moments when the boys grab the handles, and let me hold them down.

Luc found friends to dig in the sand with when a family stopped in the cluster of driftwood near my pile of gear, he was buried a bit, and declared he would need a bath when he got home.

As the sun started to slip toward the horizon, the temperature started to slip, and the wind started to slack, indicating that my idyllic day was going to end soon. I proceed to pull my kites out of the air one at a time, before they started to collect any dampness or the wind quit me and left them laying on the ground (or both).

I didn’t get to see any of my kiter friends, but that just left me more time spend with my son, so I’m chalking it up as a good day. Here’s to the next good day, may it come soon.